The fantasies departed long ago,
took a space-time journey to a far,
better place and – optimistically, a
host who cares. I still see the dog
hairs eventuating their existence,
finer than my dark entanglements,
but I am not fooled by ideas of
an imminence of their return.
I am still plagued by fleas, a reality
check which they would claim is a
bonus in lieu of fee – this way they
keep an eye on me. I scratch to the
itch of a universal need & they’re
there watching – counting on me.
© 5 December 2007, I. D. Carswell
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